Healing Touch
by 16woodsequ
Summary: Seekers are social creatures and Knock Out comes to the realization that a certain aspect of Starscream's health has been severely neglected.


The realization had been a slow one.

If Knock Out had to try and point out when the idea had first taken root, he'd probably attribute it to Breakdown's habit of hanging around Vehicons.

"It's really quite interesting." Breakdown insisted one day when the topic came up. He and Knock Out had been reviewing the ship's medical logs and Knock Out had commented on the differing health needs between the car-class of vehicons and the jet-class.  
He had instantly regretted it though, because Breakdown had taken the comment as an invitation to enlighten his friend on the intricacies of vehicon life.

"They practically have their own sub-culture." Breakdown explained while scrolling through various personnel logs on his data pad.  
Knock Out sighed from where he was lounged on the med-berth, but didn't interrupt. Some things were pointless to fight and Breakdown's interest in the ship's cannon-fodder was one of them.

"Take the jets for example," Breakdown continued, pulling up the profile of one the the many interchangeable jet vehicons. "They're similar to Seekers right?"  
Knock Out hummed in response as he flicked through a different log on his own pad.  
"Of course, they don't have Trines." Breakdown let out a small chuckle. "Can you imagine? We'd constantly be treating spark-break."

Knock Out didn't say anything as a small frown flickered over Breakdown's face. He knew the ex-wrecker was aware of the necessity for Vehicons and their constant use as cannon-fodder, but that didn't mean the bigger mech liked it.  
Honestly it was easier to just think of Vehicons as a kind of not-people. They were practically drones anyways, programmed to be loyal to the Decepticon cause and little else.  
That didn't stop Breakdown from making friends with them and apparently learning everything there is to know about their 'sub-cultures'.

"Anyway," Breakdown waved his hand as if dispelling the unpleasant reality surrounding the drones. "They still have flyer coding, which means they've had to adapt into having something closer to Trine- _groups_ rather than Trine-mates."  
"Trine-groups?" Knock Out questioned. "I thought we didn't have to worry about spark-break?"  
"Oh sure," Breakdown shrugged. "They're not actually _bonded_ , but they still have Trine social instincts, like preening, or sleeping communally. Only, they do it as a group instead of in threes."

Interesting. Knock Out wasn't overly familiar with flyer culture, let alone Seeker culture. Seekers were generally a very specific sub-group of flyers. Before the war they'd mostly lived in Vos and had had very intricate social and cultural needs and traditions. After the fall of Vos most Seekers had joined the Decepticon's ranks and their expert flying and firepower had been a great advantage to the faction.

Trines had been particularly useful, thanks to the bond shared between the three Seekers. However, they were also a vulnerability. Trines became compromised if a Trine member was lost. Generally if two survived, the Trine had a chance at re-stabilizing and maybe finding a new mate. (However, as far as Knock Out understood, that was an extremely personal and intimate process. Something which the war had not made easy). If someone lost both Trine-mates, well, it was similar to other spark-breaks, the patient could potentially shut down or go insane with grief.

Knock Out had seen his fair share of spark-break during the war, as a medic he'd seen patients struggle through breaks, and he'd always questioned why one would put one's self in such a position. To have the need to bond to be code-deep... well, it was no wonder Seekers were rare these days.

Knock Out's brow furled as he flipped through several more logs on his pad. He hadn't really thought about it, but he hadn't treated an actually Trine in vorns.  
Despite being flyers, Megatron and Soundwave weren't actual Seekers, and the vehicons didn't count. In fact, the only actual _Seeker_ on this ship was _Starscream_.

Frowning, Knock Out exited the current profile on his pad and brought up the one of said Seeker's. Starscream's medical history was intimately familiar, but Knock Out wasn't interested in it today. Instead he tapped on the SIC's personal profile.

 **Starscream  
** _Species_ : Cybertronian  
 _Rank_ : Second In Command  
 _Class_ : Flyer  
 _Subclass_ : Seeker

Links were embedded in each of the stats and Knock Out clicked on the subclass one, the pad instantly displaying the new page.

 **Starscream  
** Subclass: _Seeker_

Trine mates:  
 _Thundercracker_ (deceased)  
 _Skywarp_ (deceased)

Something coiled in Knock Out's fuel tank.

Death was a fact of war, any medic knew that well, but part of him had been hoping that the reason he'd never treated Starscream's trine-mates was because they'd been assigned a separate mission. (Not that that would have been much better, trine-mates tended to prefer to stick together, too much distance between mates would dull the bond between them). Instead the seemingly innocent words 'deceased' stared up at him from his pad.

Knock Out's digit hovered indecisively for a moment before he clicked on the first trine-mate. Like with Starscream's profile, an image was displayed next to the seeker's name. This time the image of a blue, serious looking Seeker was displayed. The mech was a similar build to Starscream, perhaps a little bulkier (if Seekers could be bulky), and Knock Out could just make out a streak of red on the wings behind the mech.

After clicking around on Thundercracker's profile, Knock Out determined that the mech had died shortly before Cybertron had gone dark and the two faction had begun evacuating the planet.  
Tapping on Thundercracker's subclass, Knock Out stilled as his pad displayed the new page.

 **Thundercracker (deceased)  
** Subclass: _Seeker_

Trine mates:  
 _Starscream_ (Trine leader)  
 _Skywarp_ (deceased)

Originally Knock Out had just been trying to find the link to Starscream's other trine-mate, Skywarp. Now, the feeling in his tank multiplied as he reread the words 'Trine leader'. While Knock Out was shaky on the deep intricacies of Seeker culture, he knew that Trine leaders had a code-deep need to protect their trine-mates. To be a Trine leader and to lose both of one's mates...

Knock Out mouth pressed into a thin line as he clicked on Skywarp's profile.

This time an image of a black and purple Seeker popped up beside the name. The mech looked to be less bulky than Thundercracker but not as thin as Starscream, and he was _grinning_ at the camera. Knock Out raised a brow at that. Though extremely expressive, Starscream rarely smiled, and when he did it was generally malicious. It was hard to imagine the SIC bonding to the seeker in front of him.

Then again, Skywarp's profile stated that he'd offlined around midway through the war on Cybertron, it was likely that the seeker's death had impacted the SIC. Knock Out wondered if Starscream had ever tried reforming a Trine, because... didn't Seekers need them?

And that was probably where it started.

It wasn't a fully formed idea yet, but the seed was planted as Knock Out mused over Seeker's social needs.  
Because if _Vehicons_ felt the need to socialize together, wouldn't Starscream?

oOo

It was some time later before Knock Out thought about it again.

Starscream had come into med-bay trailing his usual aura of agitation, tension and dents. The Seeker was returning from a small argument between him and Megatron - small because he'd gotten off with only minor dents and scratches - and he seemed to be in a foul mood.  
Starscream didn't usually even come in for dents like these (and Knock Out's medic programming had plenty to say about _that_ ) but this time he'd ended up with a minor dent in his wing. Starscream always came in for his wings, no matter how minor the injury, a Seeker's wings were their life after all.

Starscream had been sitting on the end of the med-berth while Knock Out stood behind him, examining the back of the seeker's wings.  
Despite the seeker's mood the visit had been going relatively smoothly, with the SIC quietly snarling about life in general, as was custom, when Knock Out had run a light digit over the dented area.

Starscream's spiel had cut off abruptly and the appendage had jerked away from Knock Out's servo. Tension had been obvious in every strut of the seeker's body and Knock Out could have sworn that a tremor had run through the mech.

Knock Out's brow had furled in confusion because while he knew wings were extremely sensitive, he hadn't thought that Starscream was in pain.

"Do you need a numbing agent?" He'd asked cautiously.  
"No." Starscream had spat, not looking at him. "Hurry up. I haven't got all day."  
Knock Out hadn't been surprised by the rejection, wings were sensitive and, as he understood it, numb wings could not only be unpleasant, but distressing.

Undeterred, he'd begun to buff out the small dent, taking care not to grasp the delicate appendage too tightly, as doing so could be painful. Starscream had remained uncharacteristically stiff and silent throughout the whole procedure, and he'd practically bolted out of the room once Knock Out had finished.

He probably wouldn't have figured it out if the Vehicons hadn't come in later that day.

There had been two of them, both of them jets, one that was actually injured, and one that had come along seemingly only to take up space and get in his way.  
Knock Out had huffed out a sigh but hadn't said anything. Sometimes it was easier just to get the procedure over with than to try and bully clingy Vehicons out of his med-bay.

Knock Out had been sitting on his rolling stool (the kind medics _everywhere_ used) examining the crushed digit of the Vehicon sitting on his table. The other jet had been standing silently (they were always silent) on the other side, when it had brought its arm up and brushed its servo along the wing of the seated Vehicon.

It probably wasn't the first time his Vehicon patients had done something like this. In fact, it probably happened all the time, but with Starscream's reaction fresh in his CPU, Knock Out had suddenly became _very_ aware of how the seated Vehicon relaxed into the wing touch.

Knock Out had frozen, staring at the servo resting on his patient's wing, and _that_ was when the pieces had started to fit together.

The rest of the visit had been a blur as Knock Out had tried to responsibly rush through the rest of the procedure.

Finally, _finally_ , the jets were gone and Knock Out had sat back with a data pad and pulled up every medical file he had on Seekers.  
The first thing that had come up was Sky Hunger, (which was another box of scraplets in itself) and then, branching off of that, Knock Out had gotten to what he was looking for.

Seekers were social creatures, pit, _Cybertronians_ were social creatures before the war had gone and messed that up, but Seekers were even more so. And for good reason. Part of the reason Seekers were considered masters of the sky was because of the sheer amount of control they had while flying, control gained in part because of the absurd amount of sensors they had embedded in their wings.

From what Knock Out understood, these sensors were useful but extremely sensitive, and could become over-stimulated easily. According to his notes, a common solution to this was preening. Preening was generally relaxing for all parties evolved and Seekers, Trines especially, did it often as a way to bond, recalibrate their sensors, and unwind.

This code-deep need for _touch_ was integral to Seeker society and without it a Seeker would suffer greatly.  
Touch-starvation wasn't unheard of before the war, cases of neglect or isolation would crop up every once and a while, but generally once a Seeker formed a Trine, if it was a healthy Trine, their needs would be met without problem.

This was all well and good but Knock Out's resident Seeker didn't _have_ a Trine, and hadn't had one for a very long time.

The pieces fit together and Knock Out was left with one very big problem.

oOo

Starscream was not _hiding_ , he was just strategically holed up in his quarters. And if he was currently sifting through paperwork and very specifically _not_ thinking about the constant infuriating _need_ crawling up and down his wings, well, that was his choice.

Going to med-bay today had been a mistake. He'd onlined today _knowing_ it was a going to be a bad day. The sensors in his wings had felt particularly raw, leaving Starscream tense and irritable, and the constant mantra of _want want want_ was distracting and frustrating, mainly because there was nothing he could actually _do_ about it.

He'd tried. Oh he'd tried.  
But it didn't take a genius to realize that one's wings were a certain length and one's _arms_ were a different length. Any form of preening generally left him more frustrated than before. Usually he resorted to long sessions in the washrack and pressing himself as deeply as he could stand into the corners of his quarters. It didn't help much, but sometimes the pressure would help alleviate the aggravating and almost painful sense of constant _need_.

Starscream snarled as he fought back the urge to simply claw through the delicate panels on his back. (He'd done that once, a few vorns after Thundercracker had died, because sometimes if felt like this _thing_ was driving him _insane_ ).

Knock Out's touch had been been a shock and very nearly painful. He'd already been tense simply because having someone behind him didn't generally bode well for him. That, on top of the dent in his wing (which shouldn't have been as painful as it was, but the sensors in his wings were already frazzled from vorns of neglect) had nearly been too much.

The worst part was not only how much he'd wanted it, but also how much it'd _hurt_.  
The hypersensitive sensors in his wings had practically screamed at the unaccustomed touch because while it was what they'd wanted, they hadn't had it in _so long_ that the touch was jarring. The rest of the appointment hadn't been much better because Knock Out had to _keep touching_ his wings in order to buff out the dent.

The touches that were almost - _almost-_ what he'd needed, had reminded him of his long-lost Trine and _that_ had been unbearable.  
A low keen left Starscream's throat and he hunched over his desk, pressing his servos into his optics.

Giving up on his paperwork Starscream abruptly stood up from his desk and crossed the room to his berth. Laying down on his side, Starscream curled up miserably and pressed his wings into the wall behind him. The hard wall wasn't great for his oversensitive wings but if he pretended hard enough he could almost imagine that the pressure behind him was a person, instead of the cold metal of the ship.

oOo

"-and so I think he needs to preen, but I don't think he's able to, not properly anyway." Knock Out was pacing back and forth in the quarters he shared with Breakdown, quietly ranting about his most recent conundrum.  
"The thing is," Knock Out continued, "is that I _seriously_ doubt he'd go to the Vehicons for help. He'd be too proud, and besides, the Vehicons would probably faint out of fear or something."

"He probably wouldn't trust them to do it right either." Breakdown added from where he was sitting on his berth.  
"Exactly!" Knock Out threw his servos up in frustration. "You know how shifty he is, I doubt he lets anyone touch him at all!"

"Except for us."  
Knock Out paused in his pacing. "What?"  
Breakdown shrugged. "He lets us touch him, you know, he used to try and treat his injuries himself."

Knock Out nodded. He remembered, when he'd first come onto the ship, how he'd barely seen Starscream because the mech seemed to actively avoid med-bay and Knock Out rarely had had time to leave it outside of street racing.

It wasn't until Knock Out had personally seen a spectacular beat-down between Megatron and Starscream, and therefore known _for a fact_ how injured the Seeker had been, and had searched the Seeker out himself, in order to make sure he didn't actually _bleed out,_ that Knock Out had begun to see more of the flyer. _  
_  
Even then Starscream had been twitchy, snarling out insults and barely tolerating treatment.

"He's gotten better." Breakdown pointed out. "We're probably the only people he trusts even a little bit not to hurt him."  
Knock Out's tank gave an unhappy lurch and he scowled. "Doesn't mean he'll willing let us preen him, despite how much he needs it."  
"We'll start small and work from there." Breakdown decided, looking determined. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

oOo

Start small they did.

What they _didn't_ want to do was spook the flighty Seeker into avoiding med-bay again.

Instead they started with small 'accidental' or innocent touches, patting Starscream's knee when he was finished, brushing his elbow to direct him to the med-berth, that sort of thing. Knock Out generally avoided the flyer's wings unless he was specifically treating them though, touching another's wings without permission was generally frowned upon, and doing so might undo whatever progress he'd made with the SIC.

They went on like that for _deca-orns_ , trying to ease Starscream into a sense of security around them. And maybe Knock Out was projecting, but he thought that maybe, _maybe_ , they were getting results. Starscream was still twitchy, he flinched if he was touched from behind, but he didn't lash out. Instead he seemed to... not quite freeze, but pause, under the touch.

Which was fine with Knock Out, any day his paint job wasn't ruined by a trigger-happy Seeker was a good day, in his opinion.

Sometimes though, Knock Out swore the Seeker was on to them.

The way his optics had narrowed slightly when Breakdown had given his shoulder a good-natured pat on the way by, (which was fair, the Seeker and the ex-wrecker weren't really close, despite how often they saw each other) had set Knock Out on edge. However, Starscream hadn't done anything, hadn't even said anything. In the end he'd simply watched Breakdown in what could almost be considered confusion until Knock Out had finished his repairs.

It wasn't enough though, and Knock Out knew it. Starscream needed more than occasional brushes here and there if they wanted to make a real difference, so it was almost a blessing in disguise when Starscream came in with injuries that required overnight observation.

It wasn't the first time Starscream had stayed in med-bay overnight, and it wouldn't be the last, but this time Knock Out had ulterior motives as he watched the recharging Seeker.

He really, _really_ , hoped this worked.

Preening was intimate, not in the way that interfacing was, but similar. Knock Out really didn't have a deep knowledge of Seeker customs surrounding Trines, but he knew there were Trines that interfaced and other Trines that preferred having a more sibling-like bond, but they all preened regardless.  
He wondered what kind of Trine Starscream's had been.

Either way, preening was important to a patient's health and Knock Out, despite how he grumbled, was a medic, and his patient was in need.

He just hoped he didn't jeopardize the little trust that he'd managed to build with the Seeker.

Sighing, he watched the monitor beside the med-berth and reached over to grab his polishing cloth as the screen began to indicate that Starscream was coming out of his recharge cycle. Hopefully, if he timed this right, Starscream would be awake enough to feel the benefits of this, but asleep enough to let it happen.

Crossing his digits and wielding the cloth like a prayer, Knock Out reach for the wing next to him.

oOo

Starscream awoke and froze, keeping his optics offline as his CPU whirled away, assessing the situation. He was laying on his side on a med-berth (he could recognize that berth anywhere) and _someone was touching his wings_. Starscream felt his spark lurch and he almost flinched away.

Almost.  
Because while the touch was foreign, to the point where it almost stung, it also felt _good._ His CPU was almost overwhelmed by the conflicting messages. On the one servo, his sensors weren't sure how to handle the unaccustomed touch, on the other... every touch was less jarring then the last, the sensors in his wings slowly growing accustomed to the stimuli.

Starscream's vents stuttered and he fought to keep still as whatever it was touching him brushed near the base of his wing.  
Confusion bubbled through him as he tried to figure out what was going on. He was in med-bay. He'd been injured, and now... his wing flicked as the thing - his CPU finally recognized it to be a cloth - rubbed along the edge.

His audios picked up the soft sounds of another person's systems as they worked away and he abruptly realized that he recognized the servos that were gently running a cloth up and down his exposed wing.

It was Knock Out, he was in med-bay and Knock Out... must have... felt the need to polish his wings. Yes. That must be it. Knock Out was notorious in his obsession with paint-care. Knock Out had grumbled about Starscream's paint job before, so it made sense that he'd take matters into his own servos now.

And if the polishing happened to finally quiet the desperate sensors in his wings, well, that was a nice side effect.

Even so, Starscream resolutely decided that he didn't need to alert the doctor that he'd awoken just yet. A part of his CPU was certain that if the doctor knew he was awake, knew how much he needed this, then he might _stop_. And that would have been unbearable.

Knock Out switched to his second wing and Starscream shuddered and for some reason cleaning fluid welled up behind his optics. His throat clenched as he fought against keening.

Somehow, Knock Out doesn't say anything, and he doesn't stop.  
And maybe... this could be okay. Just for a while.

oOo

Knock Out was on edge, but also hopeful. He knew he wasn't a Seeker, he knew it wasn't a perfect solution, but it was _working_.

Starscream had tensed when he'd started, and Knock Out had half expected to be skewered where he stood by a furious, offended Seeker.  
But Starscream hadn't attacked, he hadn't pulled away, and now he was ever so slowly _relaxing_.  
Knock Out vented in relief as the SIC gradually loosened up under his administrations, until eventually he practically had a _puddle_ of sleepy Seeker on his table.

Satisfied, Knock Out sat back with a smile, already planning for the next time he felt the urge to 'polish' the flyer's paint job.


End file.
